Watch The Sky
by UnderdogAngel
Summary: The paranormal doesn't stop the world from turning. The supernatural doesn't slow things down. Life goes on, whether by right choices or wrong choices. This story falls somewhere between the good and the evil. And the world spins madly on.
1. Chapter 1

**My roommate has been insisting that I upload the first chapter of this so that she can review it SO here we are. :)**

**This marks the beginning of my first **_**Supernatural**_** story. It started out as nothing much—just something we came up with in the middle of season two. And now... I dare say this story is some of the best work I've ever done. I've only got four chapters done (and a whole bunch of future concepts), but I'm in love with this story, as is everyone that has been shown it thus far. But then I guess that sounds like bragging a bit.**

**This story was inspired by many things, along with theactual**** show, of course. One of them was the song that inspired the title: "Watch the Sky" by Something Corporate. Sadly, the true nature of the title won't be shown right away, but...I feel the song is quite applicable to _Supernatural_ in general. Give it a listen, if you should feel so inclined.**

**I dedicate this story to all that have supported me thus far on it, and especially to my wonderful roommate BondSlave. She's already done fanart for this story, and we're already talking about spin-offs! Gosh, I love her. :') Alisha, thanks for listening to me read this to you, for so highly praising my work (and making me run around the house like a hyperactive penguin from your praise), and for helping me come up with plot ideas and ways to make this story even more angsty than I ever thought it could be, heh. This story is just as much yours as it is mine, in my eyes. I love you, and thank you so much.**

**Happy reading, everyone. I hope you enjoy it.**

**-Chapter 1-**

_It was a dark and stormy night..._

Well, it wasn't really. Actually, it was a warm night in late spring in the city. Two college girls were alone in their apartment, celebrating Friday night with popcorn, chocolate, pizza, and movies. They weren't the type to go out and party. In fact, they often referred to themselves as hermit crabs, emerging from the house only to go to classes at the local community college or to go grocery shopping. The rest of the time, they were at home.

Which was probably why a certain man chose to stake out their home on the second floor of the complex. And probably why he chose a Friday night to enter one girl's bedroom through the window. Wouldn't most everyone else in the building be out? Fewer witnesses. Fewer liabilities. And relatively easy access. The choice was obvious.

These things never do take too long, do they? They're over as quickly as they start. Screams echo off the walls and floors. 911 calls are attempted. Punches are thrown. Usual household objects are turned into makeshift weapons. Nails claw, feet kick, teeth bite. Anything it takes to stay alive. Every ounce of strength in every strand of muscle fiber kicks in. The survival instinct takes over. Anything it takes to stay alive. Sometimes it's enough.

And sometimes it isn't.

**;;;;;**

Dean Winchester sat himself down across from his brother at the table. He and Sam were in a relatively busy café there in that Northern California town, hoping the chatter around them would distract attention from their own conversation. Dean pushed a paper cup of coffee over to Sam, who caught it in his waiting hand. He raised the cup to his lips, scrolling down a news page on his laptop.

"Got anything?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam replied, speaking only loud enough for Dean to hear him. "About six months ago, this guy Michael Dorsett broke into an apartment here where two college girls lived—Kelsey Williams and Alisha Ramirez. He killed one of the girls—Alisha—, and the other—Kelsey—barely made it out alive. Dorsett was caught two nights later and is now in prison."

"And why do we care about all this?" Dean asked. "Doesn't sound like anything supernatural's going on there. Just your typical unfortunate murder case."

"Let me finish," Sam said. He scooted his laptop a couple inches away and picked up a newspaper he'd been looking over. He turned it around and set it in front of Dean. "There've been reports from other tenants in the building. Weird things happening. There's the typical ones like flickering lights, doors swinging open on their own and all that, but some say they've seen things lift up into the air and float across rooms. And that's not even the strangest part."

"There's something weirder than that?" Dean asked as he scanned over the article.

"Yeah, multiple people have reported pets going missing during the night, only to have them return the next morning. And not just any pets—all cats."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "What the hell?" He looked at Sam. "Cats."

"Yep."

Dean shook his head. "So what d'ya think? Vengeful spirit of the girl who was murdered?"

Sam ran a hand through his longer brown hair. "I'm not sure... Doesn't seem to fit the norm of vengeful spirits. I mean, no one's gone missing and no one's wound up dead."

"Just some catnappings." Dean smirked. He tossed the newspaper back across the table. "You really think it's worth checking out?"

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied, picking up the paper. "Even if this spirit isn't hurting anybody now, who's to say it won't?"

"Alright, alright." Dean sighed and sat back in his chair. "So let's go check out the apartment where this Alisha chick died. Who lives there now?"

"According to what I've found, Kelsey Williams never moved out."

Dean looked at Sam for a moment. "You think maybe ghost-girl stuck around because of her roommate? Maybe thinks her roommate somehow played a part in her death?"

Sam gave a slight shrug. "It's possible."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's go."

They grabbed up their coffee and jackets and such, and went out to the black '67 Chevy Impala parked next to the curb outside the café. Dean climbed into the driver's seat and waited for Sam to get into the passenger seat. The engine turned over and roared to life with a sound like that of a motorcycle engine, and they started off to the apartment complex.

"How do you plan on getting us in this time?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said with a smile. "I've already got it covered."

Sam just nodded and sat back in his seat, looking down at the map in his hands and directing Dean to their destination.

A few minutes later, they pulled up outside an old brick building. There was a sign over the front door that read _River Trail Apartments_.

"So this is the place?" Dean asked.

"Yep," Sam said. He pointed to a window on the second floor. "That would be the apartment right there."

Dean nodded. "Alright." He opened his door, and Sam followed suit. "Listen, let me do the talking."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine."

They walked up the steps to the front door of the building. It was an old-style set-up. Someone inside had to buzz you in if you didn't have a key, and you contacted the people inside through an intercom system. A list of tenants was placed under the intercom.

Dean stepped forward, running his finger down the list. He stopped at the one that read "Kelsey Williams", and scanned his finger over to the button next to the plate that read "2C". He pushed it, and there was a low buzzing sound.

A moment later, the buzzing stopped. It was replaced by a female voice. "Hello?"

"Yeah, hi. Is this Kelsey?"

"Um, yes," the voice replied, sounding a little confused.

"Kelsey, I'm Dean. My brother Sam and I were friends of your roommate Alisha. We had a couple classes with her out at the college."

A moment of silence. "Alisha was anti-social. She didn't have any friends from school. I'm not kidding, she really didn't. She had _no_ friends at school."

"Damn," Dean muttered under his breath.

"And, besides that, Alisha passed away nearly six months ago," Kelsey continued. "Who is this?"

Dean was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts while Sam shifted his weight uneasily behind him. Dean pushed the button again. "Maybe I was a exaggerating a bit. We were acquaintences of Alisha's. We've been out of town for a while. Family matters, you know how it is."

"...Right," Kelsey said.

"So we were just wondering if we could talk to you," he said. "Pay our respects, so to speak."

A few moments of silence. "Alright. Come on up."

There was another buzz and a _click_, and the front door sprang ajar. Dean shot a grin back at Sam, then hopped up to catch the door before it closed. Sam just shook his head and followed Dean inside. There was no working elevator, so they headed for the stairs off from the lobby.

"I don't think she bought the story," Sam said quietly as they ascended the stairs.

"Just keep cool," Dean replied.

"I am cool," Sam said, sounding a bit miffed. "I'm just saying... It's like she knew you were lying but let us up anyway."

"Whatever," Dean said. "Let's just check out the apartment, ask her if she's noticed anything weird going on, see if we can find out where her dead roomie's buried, and get outta here."

Sam gave him a look.

"What?"

"Do you think you could have just a little more tact when we get in there?" Sam asked. "And possibly remove the words 'dead roomie' from your vocabulary?"

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha," Dean said as they reached the second floor.

They walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a deep green door, upon which hung gold metal in the shape of "2C". Dean raised his hand and tapped his knuckles against the door. They heard some shuffling coming from the other side, and a female voice say, "Coming." A moment later, the door swung open.

Kelsey was a short girl—much shorter than Sam and Dean—about 5'4". She looked to be somewhere between seventeen and twenty years old. It was hard to tell. She could've just as easily passed for sixteen, if she tried. She was incredibly pale, as if she hadn't seen sunlight in months. She had thick, brown, blonde-highlighted hair that just brushed her shoulders. Her bangs crossed her forehead in a layered line. She looked up at the two of them with bright blue-green eyes, blinking up at them curiously. She wore old light-wash jeans that had holes in the knees and a black T-shirt with a robot on it. A good-sized scar on her upper right arm poked out from under her shirt sleeve. There was a plain silver ring on her right ring finger and round white gold stud earrings in her ears.

She certainly looked harmless enough. She wasn't overly muscular, anyway, though her slender body was toned to some degree.

"You must be Sam and Dean," she said.

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod, putting out his hand. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam."

Sam gave a small smile and shook her hand as well. "Alisha mentioned you often. It's nice to finally meet you, Kelsey."

"Nice to meet both of you as well," she said with a smile. "Please, come in." She turned and walked back into the apartment, her bare feet slapping lightly on the wood floors.

Sam and Dean glanced around as they entered. It looked to be a typical apartment. Brick walls—just like outside—, hardwood floors... It was all very open, the kitchen, living room, and dining room separated only by the kitchen counter that was lined with barstools and housed the sink. A hallway stemmed off to the right past the kitchen, leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. Bookshelves framed the flat-screen TV that hung on the wall, and were filled with books of all sorts. Sam spotted several journals and sketchbooks on the shelves as well. Above the shelves of books and such were rows and rows of DVDs. She had a veritable library of them.

Picture frames sat on the shelves in front of the books, and housed pictures of families and friends. Most of them, though, had pictures of Kelsey and Alisha. Alisha was a full-figured, curvy girl with jet-black straight hair that fell past her shoulders. Her skin looked just as pale as Kelsey's in the pictures, and she looked around the same age, if not a little older.

Kelsey gestured to the couches that faced each other on the rug in the living room. "Please sit down. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, thanks, we're fine," Sam said as he and Dean sat down.

Kelsey nodded and took a seat on the couch opposite them. She sat forward, clasping her hands together and resting her arms on her thighs. "Funny. I don't think I've seen either of you before. And I thought I'd seen most of Alisha's old classmates at least once."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, in a community college, how well do you _really_ get to know people?"

Kelsey smiled a little. "That's true. So what class did you have with Alisha?"

This girl definitely wasn't planning on beating around the bush. Had Sam been right? Did she know they were lying? Was she trying to trip them up?

"English," Sam jumped in before Dean could spurt out some random class that would look overly suspicious. "We were in her English class." From the amount of books and journals they had, the two seemed like they'd be English nerds.

Kelsey cast a glance at the space over their heads, thinking. "Oh, well...she always sat in the back in English. That probably explains why I never heard her talk about you."

"Yeah," Dean said. "But just because she sat in the back— Well, she never was afraid to speak her mind, was she?"

Kelsey laughed softly. "No, definitely not." She sighed quietly.

"And, I mean, she was the favorite of the class," Sam said. "At least, that's what I remember. She wrote some really great stuff."

Kelsey nodded. "She was a terrific writer. Never believed it, of course, no matter how many times I told her. We were working on a novel together when she..." She blinked and looked at them. "Well, you know."

Sam and Dean nodded.

"How long did you know Alisha?" Sam asked.

Kelsey thought for a moment, looking over their heads again. "Oh...I'd say around five years. We met when we were juniors in high school."

"And then you moved here together?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Well, I moved first and spent a year on my own on campus, then moved here and she moved in with me." She laughed softly. "She and I... We were like sisters." Tears welled up in her eyes.

Sam and Dean shared a glance. "If you'd...rather not talk about it..." Sam started.

Kelsey shook her head. "No, no, I'm alright. After all, it's been six months. I can't be going all to pieces about it anymore. She wouldn't want that. Said it always broke her heart to see me upset."

"Well, don't you sort of have a right to be?" Dean asked. "I mean, not only did you have to deal with Alisha's death, but the break-in as well."

Kelsey looked at him for a moment. "Yeah, well...I guess you've got a point."

Sam and Dean looked at each other again. "If you don't mind us asking... How did it happen?" Sam asked.

Kelsey sighed. "A man wanted for robbery and assault broke in through her bedroom window. We were out here in the living room at the time. Anyway, we heard him. We tried to fight him off, but, well..." She shook her head. "He had a knife, and...he stabbed Alisha." She blinked away more tears.

"And you... You saw it happen?" Dean asked.

Kelsey shook her head. "No. He'd thrown me against a wall and knocked me out. Not before he cut me, naturally," she said, absentmindedly touching the scar on her upper right arm. "By the time I came to...Alisha was already dead. She must've fought him pretty hard, though, because I didn't have to lay a finger on him to get him to leave."

They were silent for a moment.

"And then he was caught two nights later," Dean said.

Kelsey nodded. "Yes. He's at the county prison now awaiting his sentencing. He's facing a sentence of thirty years to life."

Sam and Dean nodded. "We're so sorry, Kelsey," Sam said, sincere in his words.

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks. There's just been...a lot to deal with in the past six months."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, what with this place being haunted and all—"

Sam shot him a warning look.

"Haunted?" Kelsey asked curiously. She laughed once, her brow furrowing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, all the weird things people in the building are seeing," Dean continued. "Objects floating across the room, cats going missing."

Kelsey rolled her eyes and leaned back against the couch. "I suppose I should've guessed that you'd be interested in that as well."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

She shrugged. "You're guys. And guys are always wanting to hear about the ghost stories. Even if they're just rumors." She shook her head. "People exaggerate. They freak out. They drink themselves silly, and then they're convinced they saw something. They think a pet goes missing when, in reality, it's just hiding in a closet or under the bed. There's also been people talking about flickering lights, and I just blame this building's wiring for that. I haven't had anything strange happening here in the apartment."

They looked at her. "So you're not freaked out by the stories?" Dean asked.

"No," she said, chuckling. "There are a lot of pranksters in this building. And Halloween wasn't _too_ long ago. I think the mischievous intent has just hung around a little longer than usual."

"Is that why you didn't move out?" Dean asked. "Because you wanted to prove you're not scared?"

"No," Kelsey said. "I chose to stay because this was our home—still is our home. I can't just leave. Not yet, anyway. Besides, it's not like there's too many places in the area up for rent. And I _do_ need a place to stay for school." She shrugged. "I've just got to learn to cope with it."

They looked at her again. "That's a really good attitude," Sam said.

Kelsey's cheeks flushed slightly and she shrugged again. "Thanks." She shook her head. "Anyway, I apologize. I've been rambling a bit."

"Not at all," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "Feel free to ramble away."

Kelsey laughed softly, blushing again. She snapped her head up when a phone started ringing. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll be right back."

"Sure," Dean said.

She nodded and got up off the couch, going down the hall to her room and shutting the door behind her.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, looking around the room.

"You know..." Dean said. He looked at his brother. "She's kinda cute."

Sam gave him a look. "Is that all you were thinking about the whole time she was talking?"

"Of course not," Dean replied, offended. "I heard every word she said. I'm just saying..." He grinned a little at his brother. "Don't think I didn't notice her makin' eyes at you, Sammy."

Sam blushed lightly and shook his head. "You're obviously seeing things. She kept looking over our heads, not at us and certainly not at me."

"Aww," Dean said, fake-pouting. "Are you hurt that the cute girl couldn't even give you one little glance?"

"Forget about that," Sam said. "Focus on the case."

"Whatever," Dean said. "So this Alisha was obviously the victim of violent death. Which creates the opportunity for the birth of a vengeful spirit."

Sam shook his head. "But what would she need vengeance for? Kelsey confirmed that her killer is behind bars and facing life in prison."

"Right..." Dean said, thinking. "Maybe she's hanging around to get revenge on her old roommate—like we were saying earlier. Maybe there's more to the story of how Alisha died than Kelsey's letting on."

"Yeah, maybe..." He shook his head again. "I don't know, Dean. Something feels...off."

"You mean besides the catnappings, and how freakishly calm this girl seems when talking about the death of her friend and the possible reenactments of _Paranormal Activity_ happening in her building?"

"She didn't seem..._overly_ calm. But, yes, besides that."

"I get the feeling that, if a spirit _is_ hanging around here," Dean said, "that it's gotta be Alisha."

"It definitely fits the timeline," Sam agreed. "The weird stuff started happening about six months ago, shortly after Alisha was killed. And her death was the only recent one in the building's history."

Dean nodded. "So we just gotta find where she's buried and salt and torch her."

Sam sighed. "I feel like it's not going to be that easy."

"You really think Kelsey's lying to us?"

"Not lying," Sam corrected. "Just...leaving something out."

They fell silent when they heard a doorhandle turning down the hall. Kelsey came back out and looked at them, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said.

Kelsey looked at them, leaning on her arms on the back of the couch. "So...did you guys have any other questions? Or...want to talk about anything else?"

"We did have one other question," Sam said.

Kelsey looked at him expectantly, her blue-green eyes boring into his own.

"We wanted to pay our respects to Alisha, if that's possible," he continued. "Would you mind telling us where she's buried?"

Kelsey looked at them. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but she's not buried anywhere. She'd confided in me that she wanted to be cremated, and that's what I did."

That was the one thing the Winchester brothers hated hearing most of all when it came to spirits. Made their jobs that much more difficult.

Kelsey started. "I mean, _I_ didn't cremate her! Not me _personally_, of course! A mortician did it, naturally! I—" She laughed nervously. "That just...came out wrong..."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her, and Sam smiled a little.

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, um..."

"Right," Sam said as he and Dean stood.

"Oh, I, uh, didn't mean that you have to leave," she said quickly. "I don't want it to seem like I'm kicking you out or anything. I just figured...if there's nothing else you wanted to know..."

"It's okay," Sam said, "we get it."

"Okay," Kelsey said. "Listen, you know where to find me. If you need anything else, or..."

_Isn't that what _we _usually tell people?_ Dean wondered.

"Um, actually, wait a second..." Sam fished out a scrap of paper and pen out of his jacket pocket. He scribbled out his number and handed it to Kelsey. "If you need to contact _us_ for any reason, that's my number there."

"Yeah," Dean said, "we're right here in town. If you need someone to talk to, you see something or...whatever."

Kelsey looked at the paper, then at them. "Okay. Thanks. That means a lot. Um, while we're at it..." She snatched a sticky note from a pad on the counter behind her, grabbed a pen, and wrote down her own number. She handed it to Sam. "Just in case, you know." She blushed a little.

Sam nodded and looked at the note. "Right, thanks."

She gave them a smile. "And, listen, thanks for stopping by. And listening to all that. I hope I didn't bore you."

"No, you didn't," Sam said with a slight smile. "Thanks for having us."

Kelsey nodded. "Sure thing." She walked them over to the door.

"Oh, uh, one last thing, I promise," Dean said, smiling.

"And what's that?" she asked.

"How old are you?"

Sam shot him another look.

Kelsey started slightly. "Oh, I'm nineteen. I'll be twenty in about two weeks. Why do you ask?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head, still smiling. "No reason. Just curious."

Kelsey nodded. "Alright then. And I have one last question for you."

"Shoot," Dean said.

She hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward the window in the kitchen. "That car out there—the black one. Is it yours?"

Dean smiled proudly. "Yeah."

Kelsey nodded, smiling approvingly. "A '67 Chevy Impala. Very nice. Very classy."

They looked at her, slightly surprised. _And she knows cars,_ Dean thought.

"Anyway, I'll stop delaying you," she said.

"Right, we'd better be headed out anyway," Sam said.

She waved at them from inside the doorway as they walked away and said, "See you."

They gave half-waves back and Dean said, "See you." Then they headed back down the stairs, talking in hushed voices.

"So what d'you think our next move should be?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, man. There's no bones to burn, so that makes things difficult..." Dean thought for a moment. "There could be something in the apartment that she's holding onto. But I don't know how we could get in there to look around the place without her knowing." His eyes lit up. "Unless..."

Sam looked at him as they stepped out into the mid-November air and went over to the Impala. "Unless what?"

Dean leaned his forearms on the top of the car and grinned at Sam.

Sam stared at him. He knew that look.

"Well...if one of us was to use that number she gave us and ask her out...then the other one of us could sneak in and do some investigating while the other was out with her and be done and gone before they got back."

"And you want that first one of us to be me, right?" Sam asked dryly.

"Yep," Dean said, still grinning. "Although... Now I'm not so sure. She knows cars. Girls like that are hard to come by. Maybe I'll take her out instead." He got into the car.

Sam got in as well.

"Of course, she's not even twenty yet..." Dean mused as he started the car. "I don't really see her as the party-hard type." He grinned. "But she'd probably loosen up after you got some tequila in her."

Sam scoffed as Dean pulled the car out onto the road. "Something tells me you're not her type."

"Suddenly you're an expert?" Dean asked. "How could you possibly know? I bet she thinks I'm cute, I bet you anything."

Sam shook his head. "She likes your _car_, Dean. Those were the only vibes _I _was getting. And I get the feeling you're not her type because of the books she had. She had Shakespeare, Plato, Tolstoy, Brontë, Dante, Austen, Dickens—classics and poetry everywhere."

"Yeah, well, she also had all the _Harry Potter_ books so far in hardback on their own shelf next to all the movies so far."

"What's weird about that? So she likes_ Harry Potter_."

"_On their own shelf, _Sam."

"_Anyway!_" Sam said.

Dean sighed. "Well, if you think she's such a nerd, then you take her out. You can dazzle her with your intelligence, college boy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't think it's a good idea, Dean."

"What? Why?"

"Just call her up and take her out so we can break into her place? Then drop off the face of the earth like we always do once the case is over?"

Dean slapped a hand against the steering wheel. "Well, have you got a better idea of how to get her out of there so we can look around?"

"No, but—"

"Then it's settled. Call her up after we find a motel and take her out." He grinned. "I'll even let you take the car."

Sam furrowed his brow and looked at his brother. "What's with you?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"You'd let me take the Impala? You hardly even let me _drive_ it. Now you're saying you'd leave me _alone_ with it?"

"It really has been a long time since you've been on a date, hasn't it? Sammy, you need a ride to pick her up in!"

"Then _how_ are you going to get from the motel to here and back to the motel before we get back?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, no, you're not weaseling your way outta this. I'll figure something out."

They drove on in silence for a few moments.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"We really don't need a grand theft auto charge over our heads, alright?"

"I know, I know!"

"...So you didn't deny you were considering it."

"...Yeah, I know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh WOW! Thank you all so very, very much for your reviews! Oh my goodness, I loved reading them. You're all fantastic! Thank you, thank you! I'm so glad you're liking the story! Your compliments and good feedback brought tears to my eyes. Thank you! (And thank you Bridget! I love that you're reading this! Eeep!)**

**So here's chapter two. :3 I hope you all enjoy it just as much.**

**Oh, and because CasJimmyNovakShipper asked, yes, the girl who left the first review is my roommate! ^.^**

**-Chapter 2-**

Dean and Sam checked into an out-of-the-way motel a few miles from the apartment building—one that looked like it was trying too hard to be a more upscale place. The kind of place whose employees didn't ask too many questions because they needed the business. Definitely their kind of place.

Dean claimed the bed closest to the door, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed. He then sat himself down on the end of the bed with a sigh. He looked at Sam expectantly as he claimed the other bed. "What?" Sam asked.

"You gonna call her, or do I have to do it for you?"

Sam scoffed quietly. "Okay. So let's say I _do_ ask her out to get her out so you can do some investigating. How do I make sure we're out long enough for you to get in and get out?"

"What, do you think I'm an amateur? Sammy, it's not gonna take me hours to go over the place. Why are you so het-up to _not_ take this girl out?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know... Something about this just doesn't feel right."

Dean sighed. "Look. Are you attracted to her?"

"What? Uh...I guess."

"Then you have a sincere, legitimate reason to ask her out. No guilt on your part! It's not like you're gonna become her boyfriend or anything after one date. It's not gonna kill you, Sam."

Sam thought for a moment, then nodded and sighed quietly. "Right."

Dean shrugged. "And you're the one who kept saying something was off. Maybe you can find out something."

"Yeah, maybe..."

"Good. Now, the real question is where you're gonna take her. Since you're going to say right off that any sort of bar or club is out of the question."

"Obviously," Sam said, taking off his jacket. "Listen, I've got it, okay?"

Dean smiled. "If you're sure, man." He clapped his hands. "Now, you don't wanna seem too forward, do you? Even though you _are_ desperate."

Sam shot him a look.

"So let's see if we can find out anything else about the murder. Call her now, tell her you wanna go out tomorrow night, and then dive into that research."

Sam stared at him. "And what are you going to do while I'm doing all that?"

Dean grabbed his jacket and stood. "Gonna go find some cheeseburgers and some pie!"

**;;;;;**

While Dean was out hunting for food, Sam pulled out his laptop and started in on researching Alisha's murder, and the reports of mysterious happenings in the building. Oh, and the proceedings of the murderer's trial as well. He wasn't able to dig up much more than they already knew, which he'd predicted would happen, but he was slightly disappointed nonetheless.

_What isn't she telling us?_ he wondered, putting his chin in his hand. _If she _is_ lying, what reason would she have for not telling us everything in the first place?_

He glanced at his cell phone lying next to his laptop and the sticky note underneath it. He'd been watching them out of the corner of his eye the whole time, as if he were afraid the phone would jump up and call Kelsey of its own accord.

_Why _am _I so tense about taking her out? I mean, yeah, this sort of thing is more Dean's style than mine, but... We're working a case. We're just trying to find out some information. If there is a spirit haunting that building—whether it's Alisha or not—it's our job to take care of it._ He sighed a little. _I know what Dean would say. "You need to loosen up. Kick back a little, have some fun. Go out with a cute girl. With all that's been going on, don't you think we deserve to have a little down time? You especially. You're gonna snap if you don't do something about it."_

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Dean had been gone for more than two hours. Maybe he'd gotten a little...distracted while out looking for food. It would be just like him.

He looked at his laptop, then at his phone. He sighed shortly, shoved his laptop aside and snatched up his phone as if it were a gauntlet Dean himself had thrown down before him. He flipped it open, then looked at Kelsey's small, round handwriting on the sticky note. He punched in the eleven digits, all the while wondering what on earth he was planning on saying when she picked up the phone. What was he doing? What was he going to say to—

"Hello?"

He jumped a little. "Hey, Kelsey, it's, uh... It's Sam."

"Oh," she said, sounding a little surprised. "Hi, Sam. I...wasn't expecting a call from you so soon."

Sam chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well..."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Sam replied, casting a glance at the crime scene photos on his laptop screen. He cleared his throat and turned his laptop so he couldn't see the screen. "Listen, I was just wondering... If you're not doing anything tomorrow night, I'd like to, uh... That is..." He exhaled. "Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Silence for a few moments.

"Kelsey?"

"Sorry," she said quickly. "Um...yeah, sure. I'd like that."

Sam smiled, letting out a quiet, relieved sigh. "Great! Um...so I'll be by to pick you up tomorrow around...seven?"

"Sounds good," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Okay." His brow furrowed slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

"You just...sound a little jumpy, that's all."

"It's nothing, really. I just..." She chuckled. "...wasn't expecting this. Don't mind me."

Sam paused. "Okay... So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she said happily. "See you then."

"Oh, and remember, if you need us, we're just a phone call away."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said. "Thanks, Sam. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sam closed his phone and set it down on the table, heaving a heavy sigh. At least now Dean would get off his case about calling her.

The door to the room suddenly swung open. "You call her yet?" Dean asked through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

"Yeah, I did. We're going out tomorrow night."

Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Atta boy, Sammy." He tossed a bag of take-out food on the table in front of Sam, still munching on his cheeseburger. "You find out anything else about the case?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really. Dorsett—the murder—was unanimously convicted of Alisha's murder, as well as his other charges of assault and robbery, and is now doing time in the county prison. Life sentence. No bail, and no chance for parole."

"Hmm." Dean sat down in the chair across from Sam. "Well, that's interesting."

"What is?"

"Didn't Kelsey say that he was facing thirty years to life?"

Sam glanced at him. "So?"

"So wouldn't you think she'd be following the court proceedings pretty closely? She probably would've given a statement at the trial. Wouldn't she have known that he was convicted and all that other stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it just slipped her mind or something. She really looked like she didn't like talking about the murder."

"Who would?" Dean asked.

Sam lolled his head back and forth, silently saying, _Yeah, you've got a point._ "But anyway, Kelsey _was_ telling the truth about Alisha's body. She was cremated and her ashes spread or kept who knows where."

"You don't think Kelsey would've kept her ashes, do you?" Dean wondered aloud. "Could be what she's latching onto." _Though I don't know how that would help us, _he thought, _since you can't really burn ashes._

"It's a possibility."

"I'll be on the lookout for torched college girl when I'm in there tomorrow night."

"Yeah, right," Sam said dryly.

Dean leaned back in his chair and folded his arms up behind his head. "So where're you taking her?"

"Saw a nice place on our way to her apartment when we first came into town. Figure we'll go there."

Dean nodded. "No offense, Sam, but she really doesn't look like a fancy restaurant kinda chick to me. I see her as more the...Olive Garden type."

"Just because she doesn't dress up when she's hanging out at home doesn't mean she—"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean cut in, uninterested. He started digging around in the bag on the table for another burger. "So long as you keep her occupied."

"Right, I got it."

"You'll have to stall if I need more time."

"As usual."

"And, hey, if all else fails and you can't stall anymore, just start making out with her and drag her back here and...you know."

Sam shot him a look and Dean grinned, unwrapping his beloved cheeseburger.

Sam sighed and turned back to his computer just so he wouldn't have to look at Dean. Why did he get the feeling that this was going to be one of the most awkward dates he'd been on in his entire life?

**;;;;;**

Late the next morning, Sam and Dean went back to River Trail Apartments—this time as building inspectors. They were careful not to go near Kelsey's apartment or anyplace that she might see or hear them. It definitely would've been difficult to explain how they were college students _and_ licensed building inspectors.

They went to speak to the tenants who had reported strange things happening in their apartments. Some claimed that the reports were a mistake—that it was a child or a relative telling tall tales. But others were genuinely frightened. They had seen the things float across the room themselves, noticed their cat go missing.

There was one woman in particular—Mrs. Hodges (an elderly lady of seventy-four)—who claimed that, while watching a cooking show, a spirit had set her dining room table. It had pulled out her best blue tablecloth and set it out, then had gone to the china cabinet and pulled out every piece of her best blue dishes one by one. Next was a blue vase with blue flowers for the centerpiece. The spirit had even pulled out the best silver and set that out as well—on top of blue silk napkins. Then the spirit had left. And that night, her Siamese cat Sweet Pea had gone missing. Mrs. Hodges had awoken the next morning to her cat sleeping soundly next to her on the bed, and had gone into the dining room to find the table clear once more. She told Sam and Dean that maybe she'd just dreamt the whole thing after all. But that it still spooked her regardless.

"That confirms the reports," Dean said quietly as they left Mrs. Hodges' apartment on the fourth floor.

Sam sighed. "This seems a little weirder than normal."

"Yeah, like something out of a really bad horror flick."

Sam nodded. "Exactly. Setting out dishes? Cats going missing? It's odd. I mean, no one's heard voices, and no one's actually seen any sort of spirit or ghost floating around."

"We'll figure it out," Dean said, "we always do." He chuckled. "Maybe Alisha was killed before she got to be a housewife or something, and now she's making up for it."

"Funny," Sam said dryly.

Dean shrugged, unperturbed by his brother's sarcasm. "How many more people reported stuff?" he asked.

"That's everyone," Sam replied.

Dean nodded. "Then let's get back to the hotel." He grinned. "You've gotta get ready for your date!"

Sam nodded. "Right, yeah."

And the two of them slipped out of the building, confident that Kelsey hadn't seen them and that no one had been suspicious of their presence. They drove back to the hotel, where Sam changed out of the building inspector "uniform" and into a suit.

Suprisingly, Dean was quiet for all of this, flipping through TV channels while he took sips of beer from a bottle.

Sam glanced at him as he tied his tie around his neck. "No more comments from the peanut gallery?"

"Hmm?" Dean asked.

Sam gave him an expectant look.

Dean exhaled. "Look, Sam, even though you _are_ asking this girl out under _some_ false pretense..." He looked at his brother. "I hope you have a good time."

Sam blinked at him, slightly surprised. "Okay. ...Thanks, I guess."

"Never mind," Dean mumbled, turning back to the TV.

Sam finished with his tie and looked at the clock. 6:30pm. "So."

"What?" Dean asked, taking another swig of beer.

"...You mind telling me what your plan is for getting to Kelsey's apartment?"

"Oh, right." Dean shut off the TV and looked at his brother. "Alright. I'll go with you to the apartment, and get out before you go to get Kelsey. I'll hide out in between the buildings or something. You get Kelsey and go to the restaurant, then I'll go in once you're gone. I'll just walk back after that. It's not like she's going to recognize me on the street or anything, should she happen to see me."

"And that's it?" Sam asked.

"That's it," Dean replied, picking up the gun lying next to him on the bed. He stuck it in his jacket, then picked up the bag they took with them on every case, which held containers of salt, lighter fluid, matches, guns loaded with rock salt bullets, a crowbar, lock-picking tools, and anything else they ever thought they might need. He smiled at Sam. "Let's go!"

Sam followed, and Dean tossed him the keys and walked around to the passenger seat. Sam got in the driver's seat, started the car, and they started off toward the apartment.

Just as Dean had said, he jumped out of the car when they reached the apartment building, running into the alley between buildings. He crouched down behind a green trash can, peeking out at Sam. He gave him a nod.

Sam nodded back, then walked over to the door. He pressed the buzzer next to Kelsey's name and glanced around while he waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" came her voice over the intercom.

"Hey, it's Sam."

"Hi, Sam," she said happily. "Be down in two shakes."

"Okay, I'll be here." He turned and went back down the steps, waiting by the car. He waved at Dean to duck down farther—telling him that he was too easily seen. Dean got the hint and crouched down more, peeking out less.

Sam suddenly stopped his waving and stuffed his hands in his pockets when Kelsey came out.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking around.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked at her.

The dress she wore was a deep, dark purple. It was fitted at the waist, and the skirt hit just above her knees. Thick straps crossed her shoulders, and gold rivets lined the V-shaped neckline. She wore opaque black tights on her legs and simple black heels on her feet. Her hair looked even thicker and was slightly wavy, framing her pale face. Dark-colored makeup made her eyes pop in the light of the streetlight overhead. She gently tugged her black jacket tighter around her, her breath forming small clouds around her full pink lips.

"You... You look great," he said with a smile.

She smiled back, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks. You look very nice too."

"Thanks," he replied. "Shall we then?"

She smiled and nodded, then followed him around to the passenger side. He opened the door for her, and she smiled and thanked him again as she got in. Sam walked back around to the driver's seat and climbed in, casting a quick glance back at Dean's hiding spot before closing the door.

Dean stayed behind the trash can until he could hardly hear the rumble of the Impala's engine anymore, then left the alley. He casually went up the front steps, glancing around before pulling out his lock-picking tool. After a couple seconds, the front door popped open and he calmly went inside, tucking the tool into his jacket pocket. He didn't draw any unnecesarry attention to himself as he went over to the stairs, going up them as if he did it multiple times a day—as if he belonged there.

When he reached the second floor, all was quiet except for the soft hum of TVs and music in other apartments. He glanced around again, then picked the lock on Kelsey's apartment door as well. He looked around once more as the lock clicked, then he froze. He heard voices inside. But Kelsey didn't have a roommate. Not a live one, anyway. He pushed the door open a little and peeked inside.

A couple lamps were on in the living room, as well as the TV. From it came the voices he'd been hearing. He breathed a short sigh of relief, then slipped inside before anyone saw him. He locked the door behind him and looked at the TV. _She left the TV on? Why would she do that?_ he wondered.

It was some sort of animated show. A brown-haired boy wearing a suit was saying something to a black-haired man who'd collapsed onto the floor. Something about "shinigami", whatever that meant, and he heard some mention of apples.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled. He shook his head. He had to focus on what he'd come for, not on why she'd left the TV on.

He walked through the living room and headed for the journals and sketchbooks on the shelves. He flipped through each one. Most of the journals were lists of books the writer wanted, lists of names, drabbles of stories, and the beginnings of novels. Dean pondered over the list of names for some time, but couldn't make any sense of them. For example, one section was entitled "Bleach" with names like Ichigo and Byakuya under it. What the hell did that mean?

The sketchbooks were just as random as the journals. Doodles and portraits and illustrations, more drabbles. Nothing like the insightful, private diaries he'd expected to find. And in almost every book he'd picked up, he'd found the words _Property of Alisha Naomi Ramirez _inside. That was usually followed by some threat of "do not read" or "touch and die". Kelsey's were a bit more civil, stating only her name and where the book be returned to if someone found it.

He stood and shifted his bag in his hand. Finished with the living room, he headed down the hallway towards the bedrooms. He peeked into the one on the right first. From the looks of it, it was Kelsey's room. Unlikely there'd be anything that Alisha's spirit was clinging to there, but he checked it out anyway.

The only suspicious things he found after about fifteen minutes of searching were a bunch of Japanese comic books, more novels than any sane person should be allowed to own, stuffed animals, and more than a few odd costumes in her closet.

_Looks like the awkward girl has a kinky side,_ Dean thought with a smirk. _Maid, schoolgirl... I don't even know what this is. Maybe a police officer? Huh... _He closed her closet door, focusing himself once again on his mission.

There was a laptop on the desk by the bed, but Dean decided he'd finish looking around the place first before he tried to take a look at it. Sam was the better hacker of the two, and he didn't want to run the risk of leaving a sign that he'd been there—like if he crashed her computer.

He left her room, bag still in hand, and went across the hall to the other bedroom—Alisha's old room. Except for the thin layer of dust that covered everything, it looked like Alisha could've still lived there. There were still posters on the walls and books on the shelves—even sheets still on the bed.

Dean set down the bag and looked at the books on Alisha's shelves. For the most part, they were darker than the ones he'd found in Kelsey's room. Lots of vampire, classic horror, and gothic romance novels. _Frankenstein, Dracula, The Werewolf of Paris, Vampire Hunter D..._ Dean read off in his head. _Man, there's about twenty of those. Oh, and look, a _third_ set of _Harry Potter _books! How obsessed are these chicks? Er..."were" they. Never mind._

But as his eyes scanned down the titles, they started to get even darker. Books on demons and spirits. Mythical monsters of the world (that Dean knew weren't so mythical). Superstitions of world religions and cultures. Theories of how to get rid of said creatures and how to ward off possession.

Dean's brow furrowed. It was almost like a collection of how-to books for hunters. But there was no way that could mean anything. They could've had those books for any number of reasons.

He did a double-take when he saw something wedged between a vampire book and a book on exorcism. He took the exorcism book out and pulled out the item he'd been looking at. It was a bottle of holy water.

He stared at it for a long moment, then quickly put it back. _Maybe Sam's suspicions weren't so far off... No, wait, lots of people have holy water. That doesn't mean there's anything else going on here._

He stood and walked over to Alisha's closet. He slid back the door. All of Alisha's clothes were still hanging there. He pushed them aside, looking behind them. Nothing. Only shoes sat on the floor under them, and only blankets on the shelf above them. He was about to close the door and move into the kitchen when he saw an old navy blue duffel bag shoved into the corner of the shelf above the clothes. It didn't really look like anything, but Dean wanted to be thorough.

He reached up and pulled down the bag. There was definitely something inside. From the soft rattling, it sounded like metal. He quietly set it on the wood floor and unzipped it. He tugged it open and his eyes widened. "Son of a..." He couldn't even finish his breathed curse.

Inside the duffel bag were no less than four different guns, and all types of bullets to go along with them. Rock salt, silver, lead, shotgun shells... There was a wooden stake, a silver cross, anti-possesion charms, a large knife not unlike the one in Dean's own bag—it just went on and on. He zipped the bag back up and pushed it toward the closet.

He went into the kitchen and opened the cupboards. After a bit of searching, he found enough salt to kill every slug and snail on the planet. He went to the closet in the hallway. Hidden (very well, he had to admit) back behind the broom and the Swiffers and the mop and bucket was a 12-gauge rifle with scope. He hid the gun again and closed the closet door.

"No doubt about it," Dean said to himself. "Either this chick's an assassin or..." He looked around. "If Sam was right and she knew we were lying...why would she leave the apartment? Would she suspect that one of us would come back here? She hid everything in a way that the average person wouldn't find it. Even if they did, they probably wouldn't think it was weird. Well, except for the guns and the rifle. But I mean the books and the holy water. And possibly the salt."

He shook his head. "So what if she did know we were lying? What if she knew we'd come back here? What if she expected us to find all of this? That means..." He groaned. "Damn it! Sam!"

He jumped a little when the sound from the TV suddenly stopped and was replaced by crackling static, and the show that had been on replaced by maddening black and white jumbled specks. The lights started flickering and he felt a massive chill spread down his body.

Dean grabbed up his bag and headed back to Alisha's room to get the bag he'd found in the closet. The door slammed in his face. He jerked his phone out of his pocket and started to dial Sam's number. But when he touched the phone to his ear, all he heard was static. "Damn it," he spat.

He turned and started looking around, walking back towards the living room. He went right past the living room and headed to the front door. He undid the locks and tugged on the handle. The door wouldn't open. "Damn it," he said again. He tried the window in the kitchen. No good. He couldn't get into Alisha's room at all, and Kelsey's room had no exit.

He stormed back to the living room, dropping his bag on the rug with a clatter. "Hey! I know you're there and I know you can hear me! Let me out, Alisha!"

The lights stopped flickering. Now they'd all turned off completely. Dean stood in the darkness, the only light coming from the faint light of the streetlights streaming in the kitchen window.

"Let me out, bitch!"

Quiet for a moment, then a calm, smooth voice broke the dark silence. "You will not be leaving here, Dean."

Dean spun around, looking for the source of the voice. It was definitely a woman speaking.

"Don't even try to find me. It's pointless."

Dean exhaled forcefully. "Let. Me. Out."

"I can't do that. Not until I confer with my...partner, I guess you'd call her."

"Who? Kelsey?" Dean asked. "Is Kelsey controlling you?"

The voice laughed. "Oh...you will soon see, Dean. Don't you worry."

"What about Sam? What's she going to do to him?"

"I can assure you with the utmost certainty that nothing will happen to your brother. So long as he acts the gentleman he seems to be and doesn't provoke her, she nor I will have any reason to harm him."

Dean glared into the darkness, hoping the ghost could see it. "If either of you hurt him..."

"Neither of us will attack without reason. Now sit _down_!"

A substantial weight smashed against Dean's chest, and he was forced back onto one of the couches. The lights came back on, as did the TV.

"Sit back and relax, Dean," said the voice. "We could be here a while."

Unfortunately, Alisha (if that's indeed who the ghost was) was right. Dean was forced to sit on that couch and watch whatever stupid cartoon was playing on the TV for what felt like hours. But that didn't mean he had to do it quietly.

"Hey! Would you at least let me off the couch?"

No reply.

"I know you can hear me, so stop ignoring me, you stupid spirit." He continued doing his best to prod at the spirit, talking and swearing up and down for her to let him go.

Suddenly, the cartoon stopped. The DVD had been paused. Dean looked up and stopped talking. The moment he did, the video started playing again.

He groaned, slamming his head back against the seat. Then he started off ranting again.

That episode ended, and Dean thought that maybe he'd get a reprieve. But, no. That DVD lifted through space and was carefully put back in its case. Another case was opened, and another DVD put in the player—this time of a different show.

"Come on!" Dean said. "This is so stupid! How could you even watch this crap when you were alive? ! I don't get—" He stopped when a pillow was flung across the room and hit him in the face.

He blinked, raising his eyebrows and nodding slightly as the pillow fell into his lap. "I get the feeling you don't like me, Alisha, or whoever you are."

"Bite me," came a quiet retort.

Dean smirked, triumphant. Then he glanced at the TV and groaned again. _Come on, Sam! What's taking so long? ! She can't be _that _interesting of a date! Though I guess it _would _get more interesting if she tried to _shoot you!

**;;;;;**

Kelsey tried to calm her breathing as she and Sam looked over their menus. Her pulse was pounding in her ears so loudly that she could hardly hear the soft piano music that filled the restaurant. Her mind raced. She could hardly keep herself from fidgeting or tugging at her hair every ten seconds.

_Calm. Down,_ she thought sternly. _You need to relax. Otherwise he's going to get suspicious. But, crap, I just— On top of all that should be going on back at the apartment right now, I've got this date to worry about and the fact that I haven't been able to really make conversation with Sam at all! He's gonna think I'm a total derp! And he's so cute, too. No, stop it. I have. To calm. Down._

She discreetly reached into her jacket pocket, fumbling around for her chapstick (which she always put on in copious amounts when she was nervous, just to have something to do with her hands). Her brow furrowed slightly when her hands touched paper. She tugged it out, opening it with one hand behind her menu. She shivered a little as she read the words scrawled on the paper.

_Hey, Kels! Thought you might need help, so here's some icebreakers!_

_-Talk to him about books._

_-Ask him about school._

_-Ask what he does for fun._

The list when on and on.

Sam noticed her furrowed brow and furrowed his own. "Are...you alright?"

She snapped her gaze up from the paper and at him. "Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said with a smile. She looked back at the paper. "Just my dead roomie trying to give me dating advice because I'm just _that_ hopeless," she mumbled unintelligibly.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"Sorry, it's nothing," she said. She stuffed the paper back into her jacket pocket.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Kelsey," Sam said, "you've seemed sort of...tense since we got here." He looked at her, concerned. "If you'd rather... I mean..."

Kelsey's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, no, I didn't—" She facepalmed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm afraid I've given you the wrong impression."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She sighed, then folded her menu and set it down, leaning forward on her forearms on the table a bit. "Can I be frank with you?"

Sam looked at her for a moment then nodded, setting aside his own menu. "Sure. What is it?"

She looked at him, tapping her painted black fingernails on her menu for a moment. She stopped. "I'm sorry if you felt some vibe that I didn't want to be here. Because I do want to be here. ...It just so happens that you asked out, not only the most awkward girl on the planet, but also the girl who holds the local record for being single the longest."

"Oh? And how long would that be?" he asked, curious.

She smiled, blushing a little. "Nearly twenty years."

He stared at her. "So you... You've never..."

"Nope," she said. "I have never once been on a date. Never had a boyfriend. Never...anything. Surprised you haven't heard. I'm rather infamous," she said jokingly.

Sam tilted his head a little, surprised. "Surely you must've been asked out before, though."

She shrugged a little. "Once or twice." She shook her head. "Not by guys I was interested in dating, though. They were too forward or too insistent or just wouldn't tell me anything straight." She shrugged.

Sam smiled a little. "I guess I should feel honored, then. Since you didn't turn me down."

Kelsey smiled. "Indeed you should, good sir." She took a sip of water from her glass.

He looked at her for a moment. Then he leaned forward a little and said, "I'm sorry, I just... I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this."

She looked at him questioningly over the lip of her glass.

"You've _never_...been on a date? _Never_ had a boyfriend?" He stared at her. "How...is that even possible?"

She blushed. "Well...what do you mean?" she asked nervously.

He sat back a little, gesturing to her with an open hand. "Well...I mean... I think you're pretty. I will openly say that I'm attracted to you. From what I know of you so far, you seem to have a good sense of humor. You seem to have an honorable amount of intelligence. You're a relatively open person, once someone gets you talking. So _how_ does that leave you being single your whole life?"

She smiled. "You flatter me, Sam," she said as she set down her glass. "Well, here's why I think I can't get a date in this town—forget all the issues with the guys around here. I have the grace, attractiveness, and flirting capabilites of a baby penguin, and the sociability of a hermit crab. My idea of fun is staying in and watching movies until I pass out on the couch, preferably with a friend and lots of food. I read a lot. I write a lot. I...like doing things that don't involve a whole lot of socializing. And the things I'm into are the sort of things that, when mentioned, people have no idea what I'm talking about.

"Slap on top of that the fact that I'm an artist and a total nerd, and, well...guys tend to leave me in the Acquaintence or Friend Zone in favor of the more..." She thought for a moment, searching for the proper word. "The more...obvious girls, I guess. The ones who don't spend their free time at school in the library reading books on World War II because they're genuinely interested. But then I'm also the kind of girl who doesn't cringe at the thought of a 3,000-word essay because she had harder than that in high school. The one who never speaks up in class because she's afraid of starting controversy, but isn't afraid to say exactly what she thinks and what she believes on paper. The one who dyed her hair—or part of it—purple and red and blue her freshman year and who wasn't afraid to wear what she liked. Who also wasn't afraid to dream of one day starring in a Broadway musical or having her own TV series, and wasn't afraid of the work it would take to get her there." She exhaled. "And, on another note, I guess that around here, a girl with high morals and high standards or even strong opinions isn't really...desirable. But then that's just my personal experience."

She blushed, realizing how long she'd been talking and how long Sam had just been sitting and smiling a little at her. She looked away, blushing more. "Sorry, I..." She laughed softly. "I was sort of rambling. Sorry." She grabbed for her water glass so she wouldn't be able to continue sputtering out apologies.

Sam smiled. "Don't apologize. I'm just glad you feel...a little calmer now, I hope?"

Kelsey smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I do..."

He nodded. "Good." He leaned forward slightly. "And, just between us, if I'd had a class with you, I probably would've asked you out sooner."

She blushed even more, staring at him.

He laughed.

She shook her head and laughed a little, too.

That definitely broke the ice. Kelsey hardly even needed to think about the list in her jacket pocket. Those questions just came right out of her mouth, seemingly without her having to think about them. It certainly made things easier, since she now also had to focus on eating the plate of cheese ravioli before her without scarfing them like she so desperately wanted to.

"You were pre-law?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"How interesting..." Her brow furrowed. "Why'd you stop?"

He sighed. "It's complicated. Some things came up with my family, which is why we were out of town so long. That and..." He glanced at her, wondering if he was really going to tell her about Jessica. He wanted to, though. She was being so open and honest with him that he was truly believing he had wrongfully suspected her.

She looked at him curiously.

He exhaled. "My girlfriend passed away. And I recently lost my dad, too."

Her gaze saddened. "Oh, I'm so sorry. That's...just awful."

He nodded. "But...it was some time ago. I'm coping."

She nodded. "I know how that is. I mean, I've never lost a someone like a boyfriend, but..." She gave him a sad smile. "Unfortunately, loss is something I'm all-too familiar with. You'd think I'd be better at dealing with it by now. But..." She shook her head. "After my mom and my dad passed away..." She exhaled. "These things just never get easy."

He shook his head. "Never."

She shook her head, straightening up. "Do you think you'll ever go back to school?"

Sam shrugged, taking a bite of his steak. He swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe someday. My brother and I came back here to get some things, and then we're going on a road trip together. Taking some time off for just the two of us, you know?"

She smiled a little. "Sounds great. Alisha and I used to talk about going on road trips. Never did it, though. And I've never been on one, but I certainly like the idea of it." She smiled a little wider. "It'll sure be great to go in that Impala. It's a sweet car."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah... Dean fusses over it like it was his baby or something."

Kelsey laughed. "There is no deeper love than the love a man has for his car."

"Dean's purpose in life, I guess."

They both laughed.

Time quickly ticked by as their food disappeared and their conversations carried on. For a short time, Sam completely forgot about the case and about Dean investigating her apartment. It was nice to forget, if only for a while. He was right about Kelsey opening up as soon as someone got her talking. She didn't really seem shy about talking about anything at all. They talked about school (Sam careful to keep up the pretense that they attended the same school) and whatever they each desired to say about family (which wasn't much at all). They had a rather lengthy conversation about literature and movies. He found it easy to make conversation with her, and she with him. They were definitely more relaxed than they had been when they'd first arrived there. Sam had long since paid the bill, but they stayed and just kept on talking.

They had burst out laughing about something yet again, when Kelsey looked down at the silver watch on her wrist. "Oh my goodness," she said.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

She looked at him. "We've been here over two hours."

They both stared at each other for a moment, then laughed again.

"Wow," Sam said. "That is actually...really surprising."

"I can only agree." She looked at him. "Will your brother be worrying about you?"

Sam shook his head. "If you knew my brother... No." He smiled. "But, regardless, I should probably be getting you home, yeah?"

"Unforunately, yes," she said. "Even though it _is_ Friday night..." She shrugged.

"It's okay, I get it," he said with a smile.

She nodded, grateful that she didn't need to explain herself. She stood from her seat and leaned down to pick up her purse off the floor. Sam stood and walked over to her. He took her jacket off the back of her chair and held it up for her. She gave him a smile of thanks and slid her arms into the jacket sleeves, flipping the ends of her hair out of the collar. They smiled at each other, then headed out of the restaurant and to the Impala.

Sam rested a hand lightly on her upper back—just over her shoulder blade—as he walked her to the passenger side, and she blushed softly, hoping he couldn't see. He once again opened the door for her and she smiled and thanked him as she got in. He closed the door after her and walked back around the car.

Kelsey hugged herself, gently rubbing her upper arms as she and Sam waited for the Impala's heating to kick in. Once it did, Sam backed out of the parking lot and they headed back to the apartment building.

Sam glanced at her. "Not a fan of the cold, huh?"

She shook her head. "Not in the least."

"You live in the mountains!"

"Well, if I didn't have to go to school, I wouldn't be in the moutains, I assure you."

"So you'd be on a beach or something then?"

"Mm... Well, I would definitely prefer the beach to the mountains."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"What about you?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "I guess I don't really have a preference either way." He thought for a moment. "Though I am sort of partial to Southern California."

Kelsey nodded enthusiastically. "Me too. My dad always hated it, but..." She shrugged. "I like it."

"Me too," he said.

As they neared the apartment, the case was once again foremost in Sam's thoughts. Was Dean gone? Had he made it out alright? What had he found out? He half-hoped that he'd found nothing. That maybe Kelsey really knew nothing about the haunting, or that maybe there wasn't really a haunting at all. After all, neither of them had seen any evidence of a spirit's precense. Maybe there was nothing to hunt here after all.

But when were things ever that easy? Still, Sam liked to hope. Sam liked Kelsey. She seemed like a nice girl—not the type to have too many skeletons in her closet. None involving a vengeful spirit, anyway.

He parked the car on the curb outside the building and cut the engine, saying, "I'll walk you to the door."

"Thanks," Kelsey said, climbing out of the car.

He followed her up the steps to the door and they stopped and looked at each other.

"I don't know if this is cliché or not, but...I had a really good time, Sam." She bit her lip. "Was that cheesy?"

He chuckled. "No. Because I had a really good time, too."

She beamed. "Thanks so much for dinner," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And for listening to all my rambles. Don't have a lot of people to talk to these days."

He nodded. "I was only too happy to."

Kelsey smiled, then looked down at her feet for a few moments. "So, uh...when are you and your brother leaving town?"

Sam blinked at her, then thought for a moment. "Um...I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Could be a couple days."

She nodded and smiled, looking up again. "Okay." She dug around in her purse for her keys, then turned to unlock the door. She looked through the glass doors into the lobby and started. "Crap," she breathed.

"What is it?" Sam asked. All he could see in the lobby was a young man with messy black hair talking to another young man—this one blonde.

Kelsey looked at Sam, then glanced nervously back inside. "Oh, uh..." She bit her lip and released it. "Sam, if it's not too much to ask, could you walk me up to my apartment?" She discreetly pointed towards the two men on the other side of the lobby. "See the guy with the black hair? He's sort of our resident creeper. I just... I never feel comfortable around him, you know?"

Sam looked at the guy for a moment, then back at Kelsey. "Yeah, sure. It's no trouble, if you're really that uneasy..."

Kelsey sighed. "If you only knew. Thanks, Sam." She unlocked the front door and stepped inside, holding it open for Sam. He followed her, putting his hand once again on her back as he directed her over to the stairs.

Kelsey cast wary glances at the black-haired man, fiddling with her fingers nervously as they crossed the lobby. It seemed the man was too engrossed in his conversation and hadn't noticed their entrance. Regardless, Sam dropped his hand from her back and offered his arm to her. She stared at him for a moment, then nervously looped her arms around his, resting her hands in the crook of his elbow. He nodded reassuringly, and they set off up the stairs.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the second flight of stairs. "Good thing he's kind of oblivious," she said softly. "Usually he's jumping up and down like, 'Oh, Kelsey's back!' and all this other stuff."

Sam laughed softly. "Glad I could help."

"I'm certain that you did," she said with certainty. She thought for a moment as they reached her hallway. "Oh, you know something I forgot to mention earlier?"

"What's that?" Sam asked as they neared her apartment.

She calmly said, "I was in Alisha's English class with her. And I don't ever remember seeing you or your brother in that class."

Sam stiffened, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Also, the school here doesn't have a pre-law program." She still didn't look at him. "Who are you, really?"

Sam sighed. _Damn..._ "Look, Kelsey, I—"

She stopped walking and he looked at her. Her gaze was on the verge of being a very hurt glare. He sighed again. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him for a few moments. "You should be." She took a step back and tossed him her keys. "Open the door and go inside."

He stared at her.

"Sam, I don't want to, but I will use this if I have to." She opened one side of her jacket, revealing a gun holstered in a pocket.

Sam's eyes grew wide. How had he not noticed the weight of a _gun_ in her jacket when he'd picked it up earlier? And just his luck that he was unarmed. He had no choice but to follow her instructions. He turned and unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside. Kelsey followed with even, deliberate steps.

"Sammy!" Dean called from the couch. "Please tell me that's you!"

"Dean?" Sam asked in surprise. "What... What are you—?"

"Ask your date."

Kelsey closed the door and locked it behind her. She strode past Sam, taking off her jacket and laying it over the back of the couch opposite Dean.

Sam rushed over to Dean, standing behind the couch and glancing at Kelsey. "Dean, she knows we're not—"

"Yeah, yeah, I figured that out," Dean cut in.

Sam looked at him. "Why're you just sitting on the couch?"

"Because I can't get up."

"What?"

"Like I said, ask your date."

Sam shook his head. "What do you mean? I just said she knew we were lying—"

"And she just threatened you with a gun, didn't she?"

Sam blinked at him. "How'd you—?"

"Heard her through the door," Dean said.

Kelsey looked down and gave a single nod, hoping that none of her neighbors had heard.

"Hope you two had a nice time," Dean said to her in a mock-sweet tone.

Kelsey looked up and said nothing, her expression blank.

"Spin him a bunch of crap to get him to like you?" Dean asked.

"No, as a matter of fact, I didn't," she replied. "Everything I said was the truth, if you can believe that."

"Yeah, I'll bet it was," Dean said sarcastically.

Sam stepped between them. "Hold on a second. Dean...Kelsey...what is going on here?"

Kelsey looked at Dean expectantly, as if challenging him to guess the right answer to that question.

Dean glared back at her, then looked at Sam. "Your girlfriend's a hunter."

Sam's eyes widened. "Wha... What? No, that's crazy, Dean."

"That's what I thought until I found the 12-gauge in the broom closet."

Sam stared at him for a moment, then turned to look at Kelsey. "Kelsey, he's lying, right? There's no way you're a..."

"She has a gun in her jacket, Sam!" Dean spat. "What more proof do you need?"

"Lots of people have guns!" Sam shot back. He looked back at Kelsey, still waiting for an answer.

Kelsey sighed. "I didn't want to lie to you guys. But I knew you were lying to me, so I had to keep my guard up. Figure out what you were here for."

Sam just stared at her in shock. This girl... Kelsey was really a hunter?

"How'd you figure out we were hunters?" Dean asked.

"Oh, that was actually pretty easy. Because I've got a partner who has the uncanny ability to move through walls and turn invisible," she said.

Sam blinked. "Alisha?"

Kelsey nodded, looking at him sadly. She looked up over Dean's head. "Let him up off the couch, would you?"

Sam and Dean heard a ghostly sigh. "Fine..." came a voice from nowhere.

Dean suddenly exhaled and jumped up off the couch, looking around as if trying to spot the ghost.

"Geez, what'd you do to him?" Kelsey asked.

"Oh, just freaked him out a little, that's all," said the voice playfully.

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "Typical."

"Hey, I've had no company besides you for the past six months."

"Oh, I see how it is!"

Dean turned to Sam, putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sam, you gotta get me outta here."

"What?"

"The ghost—Alisha. She forced me to sit there and watch some crap cartoon stuff for over _two hours_."

A pillow lifted off the couch and hit Dean in the back of the head. "We like that stuff!" said the ghost.

"And it's anime, not cartoons," Kelsey corrected. "So hush up."

Sam looked at Kelsey. "So...Alisha's really here. She's here right now."

"Who else do you think the voice belongs to?" Dean said.

Kelsey nodded in no particular direction, and Sam and Dean jumped a little when a girl appeared not five steps in front of them.

She was about half a head taller than Kelsey. Her once pale skin was now lightly ashen, and her black hair reached down to her shoulders in shimmering tendrils. Her hazel eyes sparkled with a light a ghost should not have been capable of possessing. In fact, she didn't really resemble any other spirit Sam or Dean had ever seen. If anyone had seen her walking down the street on any given day, they probably wouldn't have even suspected that she was anything but alive and well.

She smiled a very white-toothed smile at them. "Hello, boys. I'm Alisha.


End file.
